


Sometimes You Hear the Bullet

by aeoleus



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Its a modern AU!!!, Military, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8450092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeoleus/pseuds/aeoleus
Summary: In July of 2014, the British colony in America declared independence.Two years later, an immigrant from Nevis with no family, barely any education, and absolutely no money, was made the Chief of Staff for the Commander of the Continental Forces. Alex never thought volunteering for ROTC would bring him here. Modern Military AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello!  
> So this story is a modern military AU, generally following Alex thought the events of Act 1 and beyond. 
> 
> Background: America was an industrious colony of England for nearly 300 years, feeding the British empire. The one rebellion attempted was quashed easily in 1776. But, in 2014, they declared independence, sick of the mismanagement. George Washington, who fought for the RAF in Iraq, leads the Continental Forces.

Alex felt sweat beading on the back of his neck, soaking into the thick material of this godawful patrol uniform. He stared at the door, hand poised to knock. 

 

_ General George Washington, Commander, Continental Forces,  _ read the sign. 

 

Jesus. How about  _ Lieutenant Alexander Hamilton, Commander, his own sorry ass and sometimes he can't even handle that.  _

 

Get it together, Alex. He took a deep breath, shook his head, and knocked. 

“Enter.” 

Alex opened the door and snapped to attention, staring above the man sitting at the desk in front of him. 

“Sir, you wanted to see me?” 

“Yes, Hamilton, come in-” Washington gestured for him to stand at ease. Alex closed the door, turned around, and found himself face to face with Aaron Burr, who was staring at him with a masked mixture of resigned annoyance and downright resent. 

“Have you met Burr?” Washington said distractedly. 

“Yes sir, we keep-” 

“Meeting.” Burr quirked an eyebrow and turned back to Washington, hands clasped behind his back. “As I was saying sir, I wonder if your strategy could-”

“Burr.” Washington interrupted. 

“Sir?” 

“Close the door on your way out.” 

Oh, shit. 

Burr opened his mouth and closed it rapidly, like a fish on land gasping for water. His face hardened into an emotionless mask, and he saluted crisply, then left. Alex watched him leave. 

“Is something wrong, sir?” He asked. Washington shuffled some papers on his desk and sighed. 

“On the contrary. I need to talk to you, Hamilton.”

“Sir?” 

“You know this war isn’t going the way we thought it would.” 

Alex snorted. 

“Yes, sir.” He said. As if anyone thought that trying to defeat the professionally trained British military with a reluctant, underpaid volunteer army was going to be easy. 

“And, frankly, I need help.” Washington stood up. “There’s too much going on for me to handle. Congress is taking up half my day with their asinine requests. I need someone who can handle that sort of stuff.” 

“What are you saying, sir?”

“I’m saying I want you on my personal staff. An aide, or whatever you want to call it. So?”

Alex was silent for a moment. When he had told Eddie he wanted war, back in Nevis,  he hadn't really imagined sitting at a desk writing letters to politicians. But then again…Washington was one of the most influential people in the Army…

“Hamilton?” 

“Yes.” Alex said immediately. “I’ll do it, sir. What do you need to me do?”

Washington bent down and picked a stack of paper off the desk, and shoved it into his arms. 

“These are all the requests from Congress in the last two weeks. Answer them, and convince them they have to pay the soldiers. Get to it. Offices down the hall on the right.”  

_ Two weeks? _ Goddamn. Okay. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Alex turned to leave, and managed to get the door open with his elbow.

“Oh, and Hamilton?” Washington called. 

“Sir?”

“To serve on my staff, you must be a Colonel or higher. Congratulations on your promotion.”

Alex grinned. 

“Thank you, sir!” 

* * *

 

Alex could hear them before he could see them. He pushed through the doors marked AIDE OFFICES. Desks were pushed to the side of the concrete walls, and someone was playing Nas on a radio, attempting to tune out the static unsuccessfully. Twenty fans were running at once, clearly not helping the six men who had stripped to sweaty t-shirts, and were labouring over laptops. 

“BEN!” one yelled. “WHAT WAS THE NAME OF THAT ASSHOLE WHO PUBLISHED THAT ANTI WASHINGTON ARTICLE?” 

“Seabury.” another muttered back, not looking up from his laptop. “Stop yelling, Laurens, you’re giving me a headache.”

“That’s not why you have a headache, mon amie.” Another teased. “It’s from the whiskey.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lafayette.” 

“Uh, excuse me.” Alex said. The clacking stopped. Someone turned down the radio. Six eyes looked up. “I was just put into Washington’s staff- is there a place I can work?” 

“Right here.” The one who had yelled had gotten up, and was grinning toothily at Alex, face full of freckles. “I'm John Laurens.” 

“Alex Hamilton. Good to meet you.” 

“You too. You can put that shit right here-” John slammed a palm on the table he was working at. Alex put it down and pulled up a chair. John picked up a paper and read it, muttering words. 

“Is this…? Sonuvabitch.” 

“What? Washington just said that it was requests from Congress. 

“Yeah, it is.” John said drily. “They want reports on our action readiness.” 

“Well, shit, because we sure as hell ain't action ready. One of the privates didn't know how to salute yesterday.” Alex said. He pulled the stack towards him and began to read the title. 

“You’re telling me. This army's a sham.” 

“How about,” another man cut in across the room. “We lie and say we’re action ready, so that they’ll, shit, I don't know, maybe pay us? As an idea?”

“Tallmadge, you’re a certified genius.” John said. “Why you’re stuck as a lowly aide will always be beyond me.” 

“I don't need your snark today, Laurens.”

No doubt, John responded, but Alex didn't hear it. This war was hard enough without having to deal with politics. But it was time to get crackin’. 


	2. Right Hand Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So im publishing this rn to distract myself from the election. Enjoy!!

“So, how’d you end up in this gig?” John was shrugging on his uniform blouse haphazardly as they walked the hallways in search of the chow hall. Alex watched him button up the camo blouse and salute clumsily to passing soldiers. 

“Uh, some other generals wanted me on their staff.” 

“Yeah? Who?” John took a sharp right into the crowded dining hall. 

“Oh, Greene, Gates.” 

“What? So what are you doing here?” John stopped and stared at him. 

Alex shrugged. 

“I said no.” 

“You-you said no to Nate 'Fightin' Pacifist' Hale? Why the fuck would you do that?” 

“I liked the infantry and I really didn't want to sit at a desk all day.” Alex lied. 

John shook his head. 

“Un-fucking-believable. Says no to two major generals, only says yes to the Commander. What overconfidence for a...How old are you, even?” 

“Twenty. I mean, I’ll be twenty-one in January." 

“AND HE CAN’T EVEN DRINK! Well, legally, anyway.” John cut the line of enlisted men and picked up the largest cup of iced tea Alex had ever seen. 

Alex went to grab a tray and get whatever slop they decided to call food today, but John grabbed his arm. 

“Uh-uh. We don’t eat here. I only came to grab some tea.” 

“We don’t?” Alex nodded at the table of officers in the corner, most of whom looked haggard to the point of exhaustion. 

“Nope. Washington likes us to eat together. Says we need to bond.” John rolled his eyes. “I’m bonded  _ fine.”  _

“Okay, I guess.” Alex put the tray down. That meatloaf didn’t look particularly edible, anyway. 

* * *

 

Iced tea in hand, John lead Alex back to Washington’s offices. The others were already there, standing around Washington’s desk. 

“Ah, Colonel Laurens, Colonel Hamilton. How nice of you to join us.” Washington said. 

“I apologize sir, but with all due respect, it’s completely Hamilton’s fault.” John said quickly. 

“No, it’s not, sir!” Alex cut in, shooting John a glare. Washington groaned, a hand up. 

“Colonel Laurens, you have a habit of being perpetually late which started far before Colonel Hamilton joined us today. Don't pin this on him. Now, with all due respect, kindly close your mouth.” 

John shut up.

“Alright, now that we’re finally present and accounted for, fifteen minutes late- round robin, go.”  Washington nodded to a tall man on his left who had introduced himself to Alex as Hercules. 

“Quartermaster is out of winter-issue uniforms for the new recruits. He’s asked for additional funds.” Hercules said, looking up from clipboard. 

“Okay. That’s important but we can't even get Congressional to fund our salaries, let alone our uniforms. Talk to some local merchants, see if they can chip in on credit. Lafayette?” 

“Montreal hasn't gotten back to me yet, but I’ll keep trying.” 

“Tench?” 

“There’s been an outbreak of flu among the enlisted men. Everyone was supposed to get shots, but the funding fell through. Med Bay's completely overworked- they want volunteers to help out.” 

“Talk to Mrs. Schuyler in Morristown. She can help you coordinate volunteering. Laurens?” 

“No word about the troops from South Carolina. I’ve been calling for days, but no one will answer.” 

Washington raised an eyebrow at that. 

“It may be time to capitalize on your family ties, Laurens.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Why did John sound so sullen? 

“And finally, Hamilton. Welcome to the staff.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“Any word on Congress?”

“They’ve asked for a combat readiness report. I've started coordinating with the battalion commanders about data.” 

Washington waved dismissively. 

“Don't go too deep. We need the funds more than they need to know how many privates are getting drunk in the weekends.” 

“All of them?” Herc offered, snorting. 

Washington ignored him. 

“Last order of business. My wife is coming in today from Virginia! She’s making chili, and I expect you all to be there.” 

“Oh, chili, that’s great.” Lafayette said weakly. 

“My favorite.” John smiled, but it looked a bit more like a grimace. Washington crossed his arms and glared at the men in front of him. 

“All right, I want everyone to take a long, hard look at the nameplate on my desk.” 

Alex looked down at the dark plate emblazoned in bright gold: MAJOR GENERAL GEORGE WASHINGTON, COMMANDER OF THE CONTINENTAL FORCES. 

“Now, let’s try this again. My wife is making chili tonight, and I expect you all to be there!” 

“Mm! I love chili!” Tench said enthusiastically. 

“Be there early, sir!” Hercules said, clapping his hands. 

“There we go. See how kind and benevolent I can be when you all do as I say?” Washington didn't smile, but Alex could see his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Now get out of my office.” 

* * *

 

Apparently, becoming an aide meant a change in barracks, too. He moved into a small concrete room with bunk beds, messier by far than Alex’s officers’ quarters. 

“Washington likes us to stay together so he can find us.” John explained as he helped Alex lug his bag into the room. Lafayette was laying on a top bunk in sweatpants. He was jabbering in French at a phone in his hand, completely oblivious to their entrance. 

“He’s talking to Adri. His girlfriend.” John said. 

“In French?” Alex asked. He knew a good amount -  the island spoke a weird mix of Spanish and French, with some pidgeoned English shoved into there. 

“Yeah, Laf was adopted from France when he was young.” 

“Oh.”

John threw the bag on top of the only other empty bed. 

“Okay! Let’s get the rest of your stuff.”

“I don’t have anything else, we’re good.” Alex said. He sat down in the bed and began to unlace his boots.

“Oh, thank god.” John groaned. He flopped down on the bed opposite to Alex and closed his eyes. 

Alex threw his boots underneath his bed and stretched out his achy back.  

So.

How was this gonna be? 

* * *

 

Mrs Washington was shorter than Alex by nearly a foot. She had no regard for her husband’s military decorum and greeted every one of them with a hug. 

“Lafayette, my dear!” She smiled and threw her arms open. Laf grinned and stooped down to hug her. 

“Hi, Mrs Washington,” 

They let go, and Mrs Washington seemed to realize that Alex was a new face in the crowd.

“Hello, dear, I’m Martha Washington,” She said warmly.

“Alex Hamilton, Ma’am.” Alex shook her offered hand. 

“None of that ‘ma’am’ stuff, you hear me? I may be old, but I’m not ancient.” 

“Yes, Ma- Mrs Washington.” 

John caught Alex’s eye and smirked. 

“Good. Now that that’s settled- who’s ready for dinner?”

* * *

 

They sat around a large table, Washington and his wife at the head. The chili wasn’t half-bad. Alex wasn’t sure why the other aides were grimacing and making faces at each other when Washington wasn’t looking.

“Honey, did you hear that Maryland’s dollar dropped another ten cents?” Mrs Washington said. Washington put down his spoon and stared at her. 

“Really?”

“Mm-hm,” She nodded. “I was down there a couple of weeks ago to see Jack, and he said the school store can’t even afford to buy goods anymore.” 

Washington shook his head. 

“This will mess with the Quartermaster- Mulligan?” 

“On it, sir. You know most merchants are only taking British money, right?” 

“Yes, of course- we’re fighting to free them and yet they don’t even accept our currency…” Washington muttered. 

“It’s because every colony has its own dollar.” Alex surprised himself and spoke up. “It fluctuates too severely, it’s clearly not stable enough that a merchant could use it to buy the same amount of goods even a day later. We need to create some kind of national currency, otherwise we’ll never function as a country.” He didn’t even know where he was getting this from- that old encyclopedia Eddie gave him before he left?

Washington was looking at him shrewdly. 

“With what, coins? We simply don’t have enough silver or gold to-”

“No, no. It has to be paper money. Of course we’d have to assign value, but coins don’t circulate enough. Plus, that’s kind of ridiculous. It’s the Twenty-First century. Coins are a little old school.” 

“Interesting. Hamilton, go with Mulligan to see the Quartermaster tomorrow. Explain this situation to him.” 

“Yes, sir.” Alex could feel himself grinning. John elbowed him in the side. 

“Seems you’ve got a mind for money, young man.” Washington approved.

* * *

 

The next few weeks practically flew. The computer screens glared into Alex’s eyes late at night, until he could see the words he was typing even while he was sleeping. But Alex didn’t mind. After some strongly worded emails to the president of Congress, he had finally gotten them to agree to pay the army half-pay, and to fund more medical supplies. 

* * *

 

“Je- _ sus!  _ It’s fucking freezing! What the hell?” John slammed into the Aide room with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Tench rolled his eyes, nodding at Alex. 

“John is from the deep South,” Tench drawled. “Bless his heart, the poor dear ain’t ever felt a winter before!” 

“Shut the fuck up, Tench. Two weeks ago, it was ninety degrees. I fucking hate New England.” 

John collapsed dramatically into the desk chair, and finally seemed to notice how empty the room was.    
“Where is everyone?” He asked, opening his laptop.   
“Lafayette’s in a conference call with the French ambassador, and Herc’s dead.” Alex supplied. 

“Quit telling everyone I’m dead!” Herc groaned from his desk, where his head was down atop a stack a paper tall enough to shock any environmentalist. 

“Sometimes I still hear his voice…” Alex sighed. A wad of paper hit him square in the forehead, and John and Tench cheered at the accuracy. 

“Excuse me.” A deep voice made them shut up completely. Washington stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised. 

“Sir.” 

They stood up, Alex brushing the paper off his chest. 

“Hamilton, Laurens. Follow me.”

_ What does he want?  _ John mouthed to him. Alex shrugged and followed Washington out the door. 

“Do you need something, sir?” John asked. 

“Yes. You know the troops are advancing towards Schuylkill, correct?” 

“Yes sir, but they’re not supposed to be there for a few days, at least. Most of their trucks broke down, right?” Alex asked. 

“Not right. That was false information. They’re going to be in Schuylkill later today.” Washington said. 

“Oh shi-” John cut himself off. He turned to Alex with wide eyes. There were stores upon stores of livestock and grain in Schuylkill, not to mention a shitton of loyalists.   
“Sir, what do you need us to do?” 

“I’m placing you in charge of Battalion Three- Easy Company and Foxtrot Company. Take the men, have them go door to door and try and convince people to burn their grain. Hamilton, make sure you issue receipts and reassure people that they will be reimbursed. It’s going to be difficult.” Washington warned. 

Difficult. More difficult than sitting at a desk? 

“We’ll get it done, sir.” Alex promised. 

“Yes, you will. Get going, there’s a convoy leaving in fifteen minutes.” 


End file.
